Five Things That Never Happen to Jordan Cavanaugh
by SuperKateB
Summary: There are five things that have never happaned to Jordan Cavanaugh.


**Five Things That Never Happened to Jordan Cavanaugh  
****A Crossing Jordan Fanfiction  
****Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler**

**I.**

"Jordan, what are you doing?"

She freezes halfway into the elevator, still tugging her coat onto her slender arms, and whirls around to see Garret standing in the middle of the hallway, his hands on his hips. His eyes are set into their normal glare and she forces herself to grin – sheepishly, but it's still a grin – as she steps out of the elevator car.

"I, uhm, needed a walk," she manages to spit out. When it becomes evident that her boss isn't buying it, she sighs and throws up her hands. "Woody doesn't believe my theory on the Jones case!" she huffs. "I thought I'd go back to the crime scene and – "

A raised hand halts her mid-sentence, and she scowls. "Stop. Just stop." Garret sighs and shakes his head. "Are you chasing a hair-brained theory again?"

She frowns, considers her answer, and then nods. "Yeah, Garret," she admits after a brief, tense pause, "I am."

He sighs and his head droops. "At least take Nigel with you," he informs her after a moment, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers. "I don't want to see you coming back here in a body bag."

**II.**

It's five a.m. and she's awake again, lying in her bed and staring at the ceiling. The city is waking beneath her window, and she can hear the garbage trucks rumbling down the road, metal cans clashing and jarring her teeth.

She's tried to sleep, but the truth is that she never sleeps well. She spends more hours a night staring at the ceiling than anything else. Sighing, she swings her legs over the edge of the bed and forces herself out of the sheets. The bare wood is cool against her bare feet and she shivers as she pads her way into the bathroom.

The light is somehow comforting, a welcome bastion against the darkness, and it sparks in the mirror. As she reaches for her toothbrush, her dark eyes catch her reflection – round face, tanned skin, deep eyes, sharp brow – and she freezes, studying herself in the mirror.

Herself, Jordan, and not her mother.

**III.**

Max smiles warmly and shrugs, resting his arms on the bar.

"You want to know more about your mother's death and your half-brother?" he asks rhetorically, watching with attentive eyes as she sips her beer.

She nods, her lips sealing around the mouth of the bottle.

"Okay then. Where do you want me to start?"

**IV.**

It's nearly quitting time and the morgue is almost completely empty as she sits at her computer, typing up the last of a dozen reports that she'd promised to have done three days earlier. Somewhere else on the floor, she can hear laughter floating down the hallway, echoing off tile and floating into her office. She ignores it, keeps her eyes on the screen, and continues typing.

A light knock sounds at the door, and she glances up to see Lily, Nigel, Bug, and Sydney all standing just outside. The redhead smiles. "You're working hard," she observes playfully.

She sighs and brushes a dark curl out of her face. "Garret's got me working my fingers to the bone again," she replies, equally light-heartedly. She eyes the foursome, all wearing their coats and looking quite ready to brave the cool spring evening. "You guys going home?"

"Actually, love, we're stopping at a bar for post-finger-boning libations," Nigel drones, flashing his pearly whites. Bug rolls his eyes at the implied double meaning, and Sydney hides a snicker by glancing at the floor. "You're invited to tag along, of course; there is always room in Sydney's compensatory sports utility vehicle for one more."

This time, it's Bug's turn to laugh, and Sydney scowls up at the significantly taller man.

She chuckles. "Thanks, but I'd better get these reports finished up," she declines, gesturing to the screen with a hand. Lily's smile becomes softer and Nigel arches an eyebrow, and she finds herself looking not at the screen but at the wall, focusing on the inanimate instead of her coworkers. "Besides, I've been kind of unbearable lately. I wouldn't be much fun."

"C'mon, Jordan, you're always fun," Bug encourages, and Lily nods vehemently. "Just a drink. We'll bring you back here afterwards, and you can finish later."

Nigel clutches a hand to his chest. "Buggles aiding and abetting the demise of someone else's work ethic? For shame!" He laughs and dodges out of the way of Bug's elbow.

Rising from her desk, she laughs as well, and grabs her coat.

**V.**

She's just closing the trunk of her car when she sees Woody standing on the sidewalk.

At first, he doesn't say a thing, just stares at her as she brushes her hands on the front of her jeans and steps over the curb and into the grass cropping the edge of the sidewalk. His blue eyes are intent, expectant, and he follows her every move with the most precise flickers of his bright gaze. It's not until her boots click against the paved squares of sidewalk that he speaks, and his words are a whisper caught on wind.

"Don't run away again, Jordan."

The Boston air is cold and a car alarm on the next block over is droning on and on. A siren wails in the distance, and she hears glass breaking, probably in one of the street-level apartments. There's ten feet between them, and then five, and suddenly his hands are just barely resting on her upper arms, his eyes boring a hole into her body, into her brain, into her very soul.

Her breath catches in her throat and she looks away, staring at her car, the white-gray smoke curling out of the exhaust pipe, the gentle sounds of her favorite Indigo Girls song escaping through the barely-open passenger side window and touching her ears.

His words are stronger, but no louder. "Don't run."

She flicks her gaze back towards him, and listens to the sounds of the city she was born in, the city she was raised in, the city she always returns to, and the city that she calls her home.

A smile touches her thin, tight lips.

"Okay."

**Fin.**

Standard Disclaimer: "Crossing Jordan" and all related characters belong to Tailwind Productions and NBC. I am neither of these companies, though I would sell my liver to work for one of them. Do you know how much a liver goes for on the black market? Okay then.

Author's Notes: On the Law & Order LiveJournal communities I'm a member of, a couple fellow writers created "five things" fics for their favorite characters. I did one L&O version before deciding that there needs to be one for Jordan. These are, indeed, things that have never and probably will never happen to Jordan Cavanaugh, though God knows she probably wouldn't mind if they did.

Thanks for reading. Comments and reviews are always welcome.

May 2, 2005  
8:38 p.m.


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